


break the silence

by illicitaffair



Category: Life with Derek
Genre: 3+1 format, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, as a certified lightweight i can confirm, i tried imitating how people talk so not grammatically correct in some places, i tried writing a proper kiss scene which i normally avoid so thats smth ig?, part two? three?? of me forcing my music taste on fictional characters, that it is possible to get drunk on two cans, they both know whats up but are scared to act on their feelings, underage(? i think lmao i didnt research drinking age in canada) drinking, written in past tense which is hard for me so if its clunky i apologise, you know typical illicitaffair stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28439934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illicitaffair/pseuds/illicitaffair
Summary: “Prove it.”There was a beat of silence as Casey stared up at Derek in confusion. “What?”“If you really have your life planned out and you’re sure you wouldn’t have any fun engaging in some teenage rebellion, then prove it,” Derek said. He drew in his bottom lip to bite and Casey inhaled sharply.alternatively: three times derek and casey share a bed and one time they make out instead
Relationships: Casey McDonald & Derek Venturi, Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 112





	break the silence

**Author's Note:**

> can you believe i’ve been working on this fic since march?? while 12k over ten months may not seem like a lot, this was my 2020-comfort fic. every time i saw the horrors on the news, couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed or felt scared and homesick because i couldn’t see my family, i worked on this. i planned (which i never do), made playlists, moodboards, etc. you name it, i did it. i hope that while reading this you get a sense of safety and warmth, because even if one person feels the slightest positive change in how their feeling while reading this fic i will have achieved my goal. 
> 
> despite all the planning this fic was actually meant to be three but i got frustrated and mashed em all together because #lazy
> 
> i had big dreams of being active on the dasey discord / catching up on all your brilliant dasey fics before i posted this but sadly Life got in the way and now im just,,,overwhelmed. im hoping that in 2021 i will have more time to dedicate to fandom! fresh start and all that jazz. 
> 
> anyways this is dedicated to the dasey discord server: although i haven’t been as active as i would like to y’all are keeping the dasey spirit alive and i am so grateful <3 
> 
> title from the chain by fleetwood mac. unedited as always :)

**one.**

It took all of Casey’s might not to scream when she found Edwin curled up on the couch, hands gripping the faded brown fur of his teddy bear as he pretended to be snoring. 

“Edwin!” she whispered, trying to keep her voice down. Waking up the entire household in the middle of the night was  _ not  _ on Casey’s agenda. “What are you doing here? Go back to bed. I need the couch.” 

“No.” Came Edwin’s reply and Casey crossed her arms in frustration. She had to be up for school in six hours; -bright eyed and ready for an english test that would count for twenty percent of her grade. She did  _ not  _ have time for Edwin’s childish antics. 

Casey ripped the blanket off of her step-brother and held it up, relishing in the way his arms immediately came up to hug his torso in a feeble attempt to protect himself from the cold. “Go sleep in Derek’s bed,” she said menacingly.

(Well, as menacing as one could be while wearing bright pink pyjamas and bunny slippers.)

“I tried,” Edwin responded. “He dragged me down the stairs about twenty minutes ago. I believe there was a promise of eight noogies tomorrow, which-” he paused to shudder and Casey stared back, her frustration unwavering. 

“Edwin,” she snapped, effectively shutting him up. “I have a test on Ivanhoe tomorrow- a  _ very important  _ test that I need at least eight hours of sleep for.  _ At least.  _ Do you know what time it is, Edwin?”

“Gee, Lizzie was right. You really do turn into the Grinch when you don’t get enough sleep. Well, even more so than usual.” 

“I so do not need this right now, Edwin! Let me have the couch.” 

There was a long pause before Edwin snuggled back into the sofa, closing his eyes. “No.” 

Casey took a long and deep breath just like Paul had taught her.  _ In and out. In and out. That's it, now just one more time Casey, in and out. _

_ "You _ will pay for this,” she promised her step-brother. “Big, big time.” 

All she received in response was a snore. 

Casey sighed and made her way up the stairs, taking them two at a time. It had just passed one am - a solid three hours after her self imposed bedtime - and she only had one thing on her mind. 

Sleep. 

Instead of turning back into her own room, where Marti and her fifty-six (yes, Casey had counted) soft toys and teddies were sleeping soundly, Casey crossed the hallway into Derek’s room. She didn’t bother to knock but instead slipped in as quietly as possible. The last thing she wanted was to wake up George and her mom. 

Derek didn’t even bother to open his eyes. “I told you, Edwin, you can’t sleep in here. My room is off-limits. Hear that? Off. Limits.” 

Casey clasped her hands together and tucked them under her chin. “Derek, I’m going to need you to be nice for  _ once  _ in your Godforsaken life because we have that test on Ivanhoe tomorrow and I have barely slept a wink because of Marti’s freaking toys and Edwin’s insufferable attitude - which we have you to thank for, by the way - and I have that song from Lizzie’s favourite band stuck in my head and I am  _ going insane.”  _ She paused to take a breath, giving Derek her best puppy dog expression. His eyes were open but he hadn’t moved from his position of being sprawled out across his bed, stomach facing the mattress and face smashed into the pillow. The room was silent as he squinted at her in the darkness, the only light coming through the crack under his door from the hallway. 

“Did Casey McDonald just swear  _ twice  _ in the same sentence? Jeez, Lizzie was right - you are a fucking Grinch when you’re tired.” 

Casey’s arms dropped to her side as she bit down on her tongue. Normally she’d be able to give as good as she gets when it comes to Derek and his insults, but tonight she was running on auto-pilot. It’s a miracle she’s even able to formulate words at this point, honestly. 

“Whatever Derek, I’ll sleep on the floor,” she replied, placing a hand on his doorknob. If she was quick enough, she may be able to be asleep by one-thirty. That gave her five and a half hours of sleep before her alarm would go off. Not the best, but enough to scrape by with a B+. 

Derek sighed in defeat. “Just this once, you got it? And only because I’ve had to share a bed with Marti - and Edwin - before. I get it.” He continued talking but Casey barely registered the words as she hopped onto the right side of his mattress, snuggling down and humming a soft agreement to whatever terms he was attaching to the favour. 

She was asleep within minutes.

* * *

Derek doesn’t mention it, so neither does Casey. She passes the test on Ivanhoe with flying colours and Derek, well, he passes. Things go back to normal in the McDonald-Venturi household; Casey gets her revenge on Edwin, who instigates a war with Lizzie over a school project. Marti is annoyed at Lizzie for cleaning up her toys in the bathroom, who in turn is mad at Casey for not getting rid of the dolls in the first place. Casey and Derek aren’t speaking due to an incident regarding a science project that no one, not even George or Nora, is allowed to know about.

Everything is as it should be. 

Until it happened again. 

  
  
  
  


**two.**

Casey refused to let anything or anyone ruin her weekend, her family be damned.

This dance competition in Toronto was something she had worked so hard for and she was  _ going  _ to enjoy it, no matter what setbacks were being thrown in her direction. 

And there had been many, many setbacks. 

The complications had started with Nora’s frantic exclamation of “Marti’s sick,” and George’s somber face as he announced that he had been called in for an emergency case at work. It ended with the bored, unforgiving look of the receptionist as she said, "Yes, your booking is for a Queen double, not two singles, no, I can’t change it this late, sorry.”

“We’ll just have to make the best of it,” Casey said as she halfheartedly pushed Derek into the elevator. “The main thing is that we’re both here, on time, and I’ll be able to make it to my dance comp tomorrow with plenty of time to spare.” 

“We’re not just here for your stupid dance competition, Casey,” Derek replied. Casey was somewhat impressed that he mustered up the energy to argue with her. He was the one that drove them up to Toronto in heavy traffic - a dely which ultimately increased their travel time by almost two hours. 

Casey rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Important hockey game, I know.” 

They’re silent for the rest of the elevator ride, speaking only to bicker over the easiest way to insert the key card into their room. Casey cursed the universe internally during their time in the elevator: if her dance competition and Derek’s hockey tournament hadn’t been scheduled for the same day, in the same city, she wouldn’t be having to deal with him for an  _ entire  _ forty-eight hours. . 

It was too quiet as they inspected the hotel room, so Casey spoke to break the unnerving silence. “I get first dibs on the bathroom. No way am I letting you use all the mini soaps.”

“Whatever,” came Derek’s response. Casey frowned.

“What is your problem?” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve been weird ever since we left home."

“I don’t have a problem,” Derek replied, folding his arms over his chest. 

Casey rolled her eyes. “Whatever Derek. I stay out of your way, you stay out of mine.” She started to roll her suitcase towards the bedroom, pointedly not looking at Derek. “Enjoy sleeping on the couch!” 

* * *

Derek doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch. 

“I have to play  _ three  _ games of hockey tomorrow, Spacey. Do you know how screwed I will be if I don't get a good night’s sleep?”   
  


Casey glared up at the ceiling. “Sounds like a you problem to me.”

There’s a sigh, and then, “what do you want from me?”

“You have to do my chores for two weeks.” 

Derek snuggled down deeper into the mattress and yanked on the duvet, leaving Casey’s feet exposed to the cold. "Sure."

“Jerk,” she muttered softly, turning so her back was facing him.

“Brat.”

  
  


* * *

Casey ends up winning her dance competition, and Derek wins his hockey tournament. 

“I propose a truce,” Casey said, holding out her hand for Derek to shake once they’re back in their hotel room.

Derek eyed her warily. “Why?”

“Because we have the whole night free and heaven knows that Mom and George would freak if they knew I let you fend for yourself in the city.”

He placed a hand over his heart and mimicked a swoon, to which Casey rolled her eyes. “‘Aw Case, I’m touched. Although you do know I have been to Toronto before, right?” 

Casey ignored his sarcasm in favour of placing her hands on her hips. “Do you  _ really  _ want to have that conversation with George and Nora?”

Derek shuddered and Casey knew that just the thought of listening to a lecture was enough for her to get her way. “I get to pick what we have for dinner,” he said, grabbing the hotel keycard that was sitting next to Casey’s purse. 

“As if.” 

They made it out onto the bustling street before Derek broke their truce.

“You know, Spacey, if you were less of a frigid bore you might have still had friends in Toronto that you could hang out with instead of me.” 

Casey glared at him and began walking faster in an attempt to get away from him. “What happened to our truce?” 

“Never agreed to it, Princess,” he said smugly, matching her pace. 

“Gosh, you’re annoying.”

“Annoyingly handsome? Yeah, I agree.” 

“I wonder if it’s to make up for your lack of self-esteem,” Casey said as she pressed the clicker to cross the road. 

“You  _ wish  _ you were as cool as me,” Derek replied. The lights on the pedestrian crossing turned green and Derek tapped Casey on the shoulder. “Last one across the road loses!” he shouted before breaking into a sprint.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Casey said, running nonetheless. 

* * *

Derek ended up choosing pizza, which caused Casey to wrinkle her nose. 

“Seriously Derek? You have pizza like, every weekend. What about sushi, or Vietnamese, or Greek? Literally anything  _ but  _ pizza.”

“Pizza is a classic, Case.” Derek paused to wave a slice under her nose. "And you don’t mess with a classic.” 

Casey levelled him with a glare. “You have sauce all over your mouth.”

Derek reached up to wipe his mouth in the most indecent way possible, maintaining eye contact with Casey the entire time.

“Der- _ ek _ !”

He laughed in response, uninhibited and loud. Despite herself Casey smiled. 

They get ice cream from a street vendor, vanilla for Casey and rocky road for Derek. 

“I can’t believe you’re going to eat that,” Casey said disdainfully, wrinkling her nose. “It’s basically diabetes in a cup.” 

“Are you shitting me, Spacey? This is  _ heaven  _ in a cup. It’s got all the food groups: chocolate, nuts, fruits, candy, marshmallows and sprinkles.” He grinned and placed a giant spoonful in his mouth, groaning as he swallowed. Casey forced herself to look away.

“Only one of what you just said is a legitimate food group, Venturi.” 

“You know,” Derek said, waving his spoon in Casey’s direction. “You’re technically a Venturi too.” 

“Don’t remind me.”

They’ve made their way onto a bridge overlooking the water, the city skyline towering behind them. Well, behind Casey at least. Derek has his back to the river, choosing to face the skyscrapers. Whenever Casey lifted up her hand to take a bite of her ice cream, their arms brushed involuntarily.

  
  


_ I want to hold his hand _ . 

“I miss this city,” Casey admitted, tightening her grip on the bridge.

“Yeah?” Derek replied. “What do you miss about it?”

“Oh, like you care.”

“Maybe not, but we have a truce, remember?”

“A truce you didn’t even  _ agree  _ to.”

“Humour me,” Derek said. Casey found herself giving in.

“I miss how close Mom and I used to be when we lived in Toronto. Not that we’re not close now, but, well, it’s not like it was before. We used to go out for brunch on Sundays and we would go shopping after school. We would see shows at the theatre and watch period dramas at the cinema. Sometimes Lizzie would tag along, but the cultural stuff isn’t really her thing. Ever since we moved to London all that kind of just...stopped.”

Derek frowned and Casey hastily continued. “Not that I blame your dad for any of that. She’s happier now than she has been in a long time. I just miss spending quality time with her.” 

“That’s understandable,” Derek responded, leaning all his weight on the bridge and bracing his elbows lazily on the hand rail. 

Casey looked up at him in mock wonder. “Is Derek Venturi...actually being open emotionally? About something that doesn’t revolve around  _ him _ ?” 

He laughed. “It has been known to happen, occasionally.” 

“Usually with Marti, not me.” 

Derek’s eyes flickered towards her. “Maybe that’s something I should work on.”

“Maybe,” Casey agreed, shifting her hands closer to his.

* * *

They end up building a fort in bed that night. Casey doesn’t know whose idea it was, but within half an hour they have a makeshift castle made out of crisp white hotel sheets and blankets.

“I think this fort could rival one of Marti’s,” Casey whispered, twisting so she was facing Derek.

He looked at her blankly. “Why are you whispering?” Derek asked, a smirk taking over his face. “Afraid Nora’s going to come get you?”

Casey pushed Derek lightly. “It’s like, a rule. Whispering in forts. Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. Ask anyone.” 

“Sure Jan.”

A giggle escaped from Casey before she could stop it. 

“You know what else is a rule,” Derek said. “Telling scary stories in forts.”

Casey squirmed uncomfortably. “You know I don’t like scary stories.”

Derek feigned a look of surprise. “Really? I had  _ no  _ idea!” 

“How about we tell princess stories instead.” 

Derek visibly blanched. “I don’t know any princess stories, Jesus Casey. What do you take me for?"

“I know you tell them to Marti, sometimes, if she asks nicely,” Casey replied, smirking at Derek’s embarrassment.

“You’ve been eavesdropping on my private conversations with my  _ sister _ , of all people?” 

Casey refused to let herself be deterred. “What goes around comes around.”

Derek doesn’t respond, instead choosing to fiddle with the drawstring of his hoodie. If it wasn’t for the methodical way he was pulling the strings, Casey would think that he had fallen asleep. 

“You know,” he said eventually, “this whole truce thing isn’t that bad.”

“Too bad it’s not going to last,” Casey replied, shifting slightly. Surprisingly Derek moved towards the edge of the bed, giving her more room. She glanced up at his face, trying to decipher his actions, but found nothing.

“You don’t think we can be civil?” Derek asked. Casey almost scoffed at the irony. Derek asking if they can be civil? 

_ Please _ . 

“No,” Casey replied shortly.

Derek pressed on despite her clipped response. “Why not?”

“Because I know you? And I know me? We can barely go a whole day without wanting to kill each other. It’s all or nothing with us, Derek, you know that.” 

As soon as the words had left her mouth Derek turned to face Casey, crowding her space, his face a mere inches away. “So why not go all in?” Casey was in the process of opening her mouth to interrupt before Derek continued. “Go all in the other way. We stop fighting and we - we try.” 

“That’s not an option,” Casey said, yanking at the pillow that had been holding up their fort. It came tumbling down onto Derek, who let out a grunt. “We can’t be friends, we can’t be civil, and we most definitely can’t be  _ that _ .” 

A sigh escaped from Derek’s lips and Casey wondered if he had known she would say that.

“Whatever you say, Case,” he said, voice conveying defeat. “Whatever you say.” 

Casey waited until Derek’s breathing had evened out before whispering a soft, “I’m sorry.” 

  
  
  
  


**three.**

Truthfully, Casey didn't know how Derek pulled it off. Convincing their parents that it would be a good idea for the two of them to be left at home, without parental supervision, for a weekend? An impossible feat. She was already making a list of reasons why she should be able to stay with Emily instead of participating in the McDonald-Venturi family road trip when-

“I’m still not a hundred per cent okay with this idea, but if you and Derek feel as if you can manage to be by yourselves and not fight, well then who am I to stand in your way?” Casey was stunned into silence as she watched her mother haphazardly fret with Marti’s suitcase while warning Derek about not having anybody over. Eventually Nora turned away from him to face Casey and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I really don’t have the time or patience to police any other  _ incidents  _ this weekend. So please, play nice? For me?” 

“Sure Mom,” Casey replied begrudgingly. Despite her annoyance of having to deal with Derek, alone, for a full forty-eight hours she wasn’t  _ stupid.  _ She knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Everything will be fine, I promise.” 

Satisfied with her response, Nora left to join the rest of the McDonald-Venturi clan, leaving behind an echo of several  _ I love yous!  _ and a reminder of meatloaf in the refrigerator. Determined to maintain control over the situation, Casey swivelled around to face Derek, who had already planted himself in front of a Leafs game. 

Sensing what she was about to say, Derek jumped in first. “I swear to God, Casey, if you’re about to implement  _ rules  _ for a weekend with no parental supervision-” 

“Rules are a fundamental element in maintaining order,” Casey interrupted, moving to stand in front of the TV. “And they will be adhered to accordingly. Rule number one, nobody else but us two in the house. This includes friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, acquaintances and, obviously, no parties.”

“You done yet?”

“Not even close. Rule number two: be quiet and stay out of my way. Number three: the kitchen, living room and bathroom are neutral territories. The basement and Lizzie’s room are mine, you get Edwin’s and the backyard. Four-”

“What the fuck do you need Lizzie’s room for? And why would I ever want to go up into the attic?” Casey levelled him with a glare, to which Derek put his hands up in surrender. “Okay Space Case. Whatever you say, please  _ do  _ continue with your very important and completely reasonable rules.” 

“As I was  _ saying,  _ rule number four: we split the time spent on the TV. After the game is finished, I get control over the remote, and vice versa.” Derek remained silent, so Casey carried on. “And finally, rule number five: do  _ not  _ ask me for money to pay for the pizza that you will inevitably order later.” 

Derek mumbled his agreement to her terms - which Casey knew he would ultimately end up breaking by the end of the weekend anyway - and held out his hands expectantly. “Can you move now? I’ve already missed two shifts, which is crucial this late in the game.”

_ Boys and their sports, _ Casey thought as she made her way into the kitchen to start preparing a healthy, nutritious Friday night meal.  _ I will never understand them - or Derek for that matter.  _

* * *

It was around nine-thirty that night when Casey started to get suspicious. She was lying in bed reading a book about the Russian Revolution and enjoying the peace and quiet. Which, if she was being completely honest, terrified her. The McDonald-Venturi residence did not do  _ quiet.  _ Heck, in the three years Casey has known him, Derek hasn’t lasted a mere two hours without making noise, let alone an entire  _ night. _

He had to be planning something, and it made Casey uneasy that she didn’t know what he was up to. 

After shoving her feet into her favourite bunny slippers, smoothing out her pyjama top and quickly running a brush through her hair, Casey made her way down the stairs. Careful to not make any noise, she crouched down on the last step and strained her ears. The living room was filled with the noise of Derek’s hockey game on the TV, but Casey could hear the unmistakable noises of the refrigerator door being opened and shut repeatedly. The sound of cans clinking filled her ears, followed by footsteps making their way towards the living room. Casey quickly jumped up a couple of steps until she was hidden from view and watched as Derek made his way towards his chair, a plate of pizza in one hand and-

“What the  _ hell  _ do you think you’re doing?” Casey demanded, shuffling down the staircase and striding towards Derek’s chair. Her voice jumped two octaves. “How stupid  _ are  _ you?” 

Derek didn’t so much as blink in her direction. “You’re breaking rule number two, Princess. Or have you forgotten already?” 

“You know, I could call up George and Mom right this second and tell them what you’re up to.” Casey waved her hand at Derek’s feet propped up on the coffee table where the two four-packs of Bud Lights that were sitting. “Stealing George’s beers, Derek? You really have stooped low this time. Not to mention the fact that drinking excessive amounts of alcohol, especially alone, is ridiculously irresponsible! What would happen if you had an accident? Or if there was a fire? Or if Mom and George came home? This was so not my idea of a pleasant, stress- free weekend, Derek!” 

The room was silent as Casey took a deep breath and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Derek got up from his chair and stood facing her, annoyance and anger present across his features. “Always quick to judge, aren’t you Casey? I didn’t  _ steal  _ them, I bought them. The movies weren’t lying when they said that a fake ID actually works. And why do you even care? I’m not breaking any of your rules. I haven’t even fucking spoken to you all night. So if I want to get shit faced by myself while watching my favourite hockey team kick ass in the playoffs because all of my friends have their own plans, then I fucking  _ can. _ ” Derek crossed his arms, mirroring Casey’s position and pulled his mouth into a sarcastic smile. “You know Casey, if you weren’t such an annoying Keener, I might have even asked you to join me. Not that you would have been much in the way of company, being as frigid as you are.” He punctuated his last two words by poking her in the cheek, to which Casey immediately batted his hand away. 

“Oh  _ please. _ As if anyone would find drinking cheap beer while watching jocks fight with sticks entertaining. I have better ways to spend my time.”

Derek scoffed. “I call bullshit, Casey. You want to know what I think?”

“No.” 

“Well too bad, because I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you’re scared.” His statement was so outlandish that Casey almost laughed. Her, scared? Over something as simple as not wanting to waste her Friday night with frivolous, boring activities? As if. She raised an eyebrow, her face screwed up in disbelief as he continued. “Yeah, I think you’re scared. You don’t know how to have good old, traditional adolescent fun - with a healthy dose of teenage rebellion on the side - and that terrifies you.” There’s a pause as Derek shifts a little bit closer, causing their arms to brush up against each other. Casey didn’t back down. “You feel as if you’re failing something. Failing being a teenager, and you can’t handle it. And despite all your protests and your rules, there’s a small part, a very very small part, of you that  _ wants  _ to break them. To let go, and not have to worry about the consequences or what if’s.” 

There’s silence as Derek finished his speech, smirking smugly as he looked down at Casey. She glared back at him, a range of emotions flooding through her. She was practically vibrating at his comments - how  _ dare  _ he imply that she was bad at being a teenager! - and Casey had the strong urge to race back up the stairs into her room, plunge herself back into revolutionary Russia and pretend this conversation had never happened. 

But Casey never backed down from a challenge. And although she hated to admit it, there  _ was  _ a small part of her that felt the pull of being recalcitrant, of not caring what she would say to George and Nora, or how she would justify her decisions to Paul. Not that Casey would ever confess that to anyone, least of all  _ Derek. _

Instead, she hardened her gaze and uncurled her arms, pushing Derek backwards until his legs hit the couch from the behind and left him cornered. His gaze was unflinching and Casey longed to wipe the smug look off his face. “Just because  _ you  _ like to act as if you have no future, no prospects and no life plan doesn’t mean I have to. You’re just jealous that I’m going to go places with my life, and you’ll be stuck being the same egotistical jackass that you’ve always been.” 

“Prove it.”

There was a beat of silence as Casey stared up at Derek in confusion. “What?” 

“If you really have your life planned out and you’re  _ sure  _ you wouldn’t have any fun engaging in some teenage rebellion, then prove it,” Derek said. He drew in his bottom lip to bite and Casey inhaled sharply. As she watched him it struck Casey just how close they were: she could smell his cologne and hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. He was still pressed to the back of the couch, although he had taken to leaning into the backboard with both hands propped on top, sprawling his fingers against the cushions. “Have a beer, watch a game with me and prove that you don’t fail at being a teenager. Prove you know how to have  _ fun. _ ” 

Casey weighed up the options in her mind. She either gave up to Derek’s taunts and participated in his little game, just to end up losing, or lost her dignity in order to win. Either way, it was lousy odds. 

Derek must have taken her silence for defeat as he pushed himself off the back of the couch and moved forward, forcing Casey to hastily shuffle backward in an attempt not to crash into him. “Wise choice Princess. I bet you wouldn’t have lasted an hour, anyway. Best to stick to what you’re best at, yeah? Say hi to all the other Keeners for me. Give them my best.”

His statement pushed Casey over the edge.  _ Bet I couldn’t last an hour? Please,  _ Casey thought.  _ The fact that Derek  _ still  _ doesn’t recognise who he’s dealing with is laughable, really.  _ She shook her head and held up her palms, stopping Derek from pushing her backwards even further. “What do I get, when I win?”

He raised an eyebrow. “ _ When  _ you win?”

“Yes. When I go more than an hour being a ‘rebellious’ teenager and watching your stupid hockey game, what do I win?” 

Derek licked his lips and parted them into something resembling a smirk, which Casey had begun to recognise as his signature  _ I think I’m better than Casey _ gesture. “Never back down from losing a competition, do you, Casey?” She scoffed in response, realising that he was deflecting. Derek hadn’t actually expected her to take him up on the bet and probably didn’t know what he wanted the stakes to be. 

Offering him a patronizing smile, Casey hummed. “So what will it be, Derek?” 

He drew himself up to his full height. “If you win, you have to pay my gas money for an entire year and make me a full buffet breakfast in bed  _ every  _ Sunday. If I win, I’ll pay your gas money.” 

Disdain crossed her features as Casey rolled her eyes. “I don’t accept those terms. Why do you get gas money  _ and  _ breakfast? There’s got to be something else in it for me.”

Derek threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “Fine! Name your price, Spacey Casey.” 

“Gas money, as well as full possession and control of your chair for a full six months.” 

“No.”

“Aww Derek, scared you’ll lose? And just after your little show and dance about being  _ so sure  _ that you would be able to beat me?” 

All she got in return was a glare and a begrudging “ _ fine,”  _ as Derek moved towards the coffee table, grabbing two beers. 

Which was how - against Casey’s better judgement - she found herself sat primly on the edge of the couch at ten pm, sipping on a mildly cold beer while making a list of all the things she could be doing instead of indulging in Derek’s taunts. However, despite her discomfort, she plastered a smile on her face. When Derek turned to face her during the first intermission Casey held up her beer and took a long, hearty swig. The dark look that crossed his face as he turned back to the TV filled her with more exhilaration and thrill than the beer did. 

She was  _ so  _ going to win.

* * *

“Okay, okay,” Casey said, holding up her hands to get Derek’s attention. She was on her second beer, while Derek was on his third, and Casey didn't understand how he was unaffected by the alcohol. She had already folded up the sleeves of her pyjama top and kicked off her slippers as a result of overheating. In her inebriated state, Casey was struggling to fight the urge of talking about anything and everything, which was weird in and of itself. Casey was talkative, yes, but with Derek? All their conversations consisted largely of barbs and taunts aimed at each other that ultimately lead to fights. She had never actually had the chance to  _ talk  _ to him like she would with Emily or her mother. “So how does hockey actually  _ work? _ It’s going too fast, I can barely keep up.” Immediately after finishing her sentence, Casey burped, which was followed by a nervous giggle. Normally she would have chastised herself for her crude behaviour, but she found herself struggling to care. Anyway, it wasn’t as if  _ Derek  _ was a model citizen for nice manners. “Like, I can understand soccer but this? I feel as if I’m getting whiplash! The sound of the puck getting hit is so satisfying though.” 

Derek looked at her from the corner of his eye. “Always knew you’d be a lightweight. You’ve had like what, two cans? Pathetic, really.” 

Casey went to take another swig of her beer but frowned when it came up empty. “Shut up. I don’t understand how you seem,” she waved her left hand vaguely in his direction, “ _ normal.”  _

He snorted in response. “I’ve had a lot more practise.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re a  _ delinquent.  _ Honestly, my Mom and George have the patience of saints. I would have shipped you off to boarding school by now.” 

“Ouch Casey, that hurts. What would you do without my exceptional personality and witty humour?” 

She laughed in response, catching Derek’s eye as he looked at her strangely. “Oh come on Derek, you know you keep me on my toes. No need to fish for validation.” No sooner than the words left her mouth did Casey realise what she had said. The alcohol had loosened her tongue, so much so that Casey resigned to think before she spoke for the rest of the night. “Oh shoot, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Forget I said that.” 

Casey braced herself for the insults that were sure to follow such an honest and vulnerable statement, but they never came. Instead, Derek laughed, a short melodic sound that seemed to bubble out of him almost as if he wasn’t expecting it. He shook his head, surprised, and leaned forward to grab another beer, offering it to Casey. “Having fun yet?”

“In your dreams. Anyway, you didn’t answer my question! How do you have any idea what’s happening? I’m more confused than I was while watching Edwin’s ‘magic’ show last month, and that’s saying a heck of a lot.” 

“Well naturally, I understand the game because I’m smarter than you,” he began egotistically, but swiftly switched his train of thought when he saw Casey threatening to hit him with the cushion she had been leaning against. “But  _ also  _ because I - can you please put that down, you’re making me even more nervous - have been playing hockey for about seven years. Would be a bit pathetic if I didn’t understand the rules, wouldn’t it?” 

Casey ignored his subtle jab at her intelligence. “I make you nervous?” she asked with glee, accompanied by another giggle. She filed away that fact for future knowledge: tipsy Casey liked to giggle more than sober Casey did. Noted. 

He scoffed in disbelief. “ _ That’s  _ what you’re choosing to focus on?”

“Well obviously. I don’t make guys nervous. That’s for the Kendra’s of the world. I didn’t even make Max nervous, and he was my  _ boyfriend.  _ I’ll take my victories when I can, thank you very much,” said Casey, taking a large gulp of beer. She refused to unpack why she had just compared the way she felt in a relationship with Max to  _ Derek.  _ It was too large of a concept for her to grasp, drunk or sober. Instead, she barrelled on, leaving no room for Derek to respond to her confession. “The guy playing defence for the Leafs, number 24? Why does he keep getting put in the box? Does he need a time out?” Casey burped again, ignoring the mocking high-pitched  _ “eww Casey!”  _ that came from Derek immediately after. “What did he do, draw all over the basement walls in permanent marker?” 

Another laugh came from Derek, pleasing Casey. It felt nice to be reminded of their shared experiences. Casey would never admit it to anybody, not even her journal, but going through the merger of the McDonald-Venturi’s had been harder than she let on. Particularly as no one seemed to understand just how difficult it was for Casey to give up her old life. She had forgotten that Derek had been through the same situation as her and although he wasn’t the easiest person to communicate with, she relished in the fact that at this moment they were on the same page. 

“Yeah, that wasn’t Marti’s finest moment. I  _ told  _ her to draw on the bathroom walls instead, Nora and Dad never go in there. But does she listen to me? No. The time out that she got served her right.” Derek’s tone was haughty, but Casey knew there was genuine fondness underneath. He might have everybody else at school fooled, but Casey knew that Derek had a lot of love in his heart for his younger siblings. It was endearing, honestly.

_ Woah Casey. Derek - endearing? Might be time to slow down. _

“Does it worry you that Edwin and Marti look up to you so much?” Casey asked, feeling brave. The question had been on her mind for a while, but she knew it was unreasonable to expect Derek to take her seriously. With her alcohol addled brain, she decided now might as well be a good as time as any. “It worries me,” she continued, letting out a small hiccup. “That Lizzie looks up to me. It’s…,” Casey trailed off, unable to find the words. “It’s scary, that she looks up to me,” she added unnecessarily. Sober Casey would have cringed at the inarticulate way that slightly drunk Casey was handling the situation, but the latter couldn’t find it in herself to care. She and Derek were having a conversation,  _ an actual conversation, _ without fighting. 

It was practically a miracle, honestly.

Casey flicked her eyes up to Derek, who was looking at her with an expression that she had never seen before. He had leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees as he stared at her, holding his beer with both hands. 

“What’s so scary about being looked up to?” Derek’s voice was surprisingly soft, and Casey struggled to recall a time where she had heard him use that tone with anyone other than Marti or a long-term girlfriend. 

It was an earnest question, one that deserved an earnest answer, so Casey climbed over to the left armrest of the couch and gripped it with both hands. She was closer to Derek this way - so close that she could reach out and poke his cheek. 

_ Liquor made it easier to pretend, _ Casey realised. Pretend that she wasn’t Spacey Casey: an annoying step-sister who obliterated someone’s life just by existing. That Derek wasn’t a lazy burnout with an attitude problem, barreling through life without a second thought of who he had left behind in his wake. It was easy to imagine that instead, they were just two people sharing their vulnerabilities without any repercussions. Which was probably why Casey found it so easy to reply. 

“I’m not very likeable. I mean, I know I’m a good person and all that, but people find it hard to-” she stopped to hiccup again, and cursed internally. After taking another swig of beer she continued, “-enjoy hanging out with me. I’m boring to them. Max treated me as if I was his mother half the time which,” Casey shuddered and finished her can, waving it at Derek somewhat victoriously. “Is wrong on  _ so  _ many levels, and is something I don’t ever want to have to unpack, like,  _ ever. _ But yeah, I don’t want Lizzie to have to go through that. She’s too good for that.” 

Miraculously Derek had remained quiet throughout her entire confession, not even breaking through the silence to take a jab at her improper and somewhat slurred speech. Casey felt uncomfortable in the stillness of the living room. Her body was vibrating and her thoughts were running at a mile a minute. It was unnerving that Derek wasn’t matching her manic energy. They tended to fall into patterns: if Casey was mad, then eventually Derek would be too. If Derek was in a good mood then, eventually, Casey would be as well. A simple by-product of living in the same house and, unfortunately, from spending so much time together. 

When Derek finally responded his voice was low. Casey had to strain to hear him over the loud cheers coming from the TV, indicating that the Leafs had scored themselves another goal.

“I like spending time with you,” he conceded. Casey smiled softly. “I mean, only when you’re not being a complete bitc-.” Derek trailed off, aware that ending his sentence would only break whatever tangible thing that Casey had spun between them. 

Strangely, Casey got the feeling that Derek didn’t  _ want  _ their moment to end. That he wanted to keep pretending that he wasn’t Derek and that she wasn’t Casey. “You make me laugh,” he said, catching Casey off guard. “And not just because I’m laughing  _ at  _ you. I try not to show it, but yeah.” 

Embarrassingly, she giggled. “Really? You think  _ I’m  _ funny?” she said, looking up at him in wonder. “That’s one of the nicest compliments anybody has ever given to me, and that’s saying something. Usually, they’re all ‘Casey’s so smart, so organised, so structured,’ not that I am funny.” Derek laughed, and Casey felt her cheeks heating up. “Wow, I’m drunk,” she declared, flopping back onto the couch and closing her eyes.

“Well, if I’m being honest Princess, you lasted longer than I believed you would. I thought you’d only make it through two cans. Gotta say I’m a little impressed.” 

Casey murmured in agreement, her eyes still closed. 

“A little past your bedtime, isn’t it?” Derek teased and Casey felt a twinge of annoyance creeping up her chest. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. It was almost eleven pm and on any other night, Casey would be fast asleep. 

But Casey wasn’t tired, not in the slightest, and this wasn’t just any other night. She couldn’t explain it to anyone even if she tried, but Casey felt as if she was on the verge of  _ something,  _ almost teetering on the edge _. _ The air felt electric, crackling with anticipation and Casey was full of it, adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream.

_ It’s probably just the beer, _ Casey reasoned. And yet, she wanted to see it through. She was a McDonald, after all, and McDonald’s  _ never  _ backed down when faced with a challenge. 

Pushing herself out of her comfort zone to be a stereotypical teenager had started out as simply that: a challenge - but now Casey wanted to see it through. She wanted to follow that electricity. She wanted to chase it until she could hold it in her hands and feel it through every nerve in her body. 

So, instead of letting Derek rope her into giving in, into giving  _ up, _ she jumped from the couch and stood in front of his chair, placing her left hand on his armrest and her right over his eyes. Derek jerked back as soon as her hand touched his skin and Casey took pleasure in the sudden movement, knowing she startled him. 

“You wanna see a magic trick?” she exclaimed, her voice conveying her giddiness. 

“I’m currently not seeing  _ anything,  _ Princess.” 

Casey removed her hand. “Close your eyes,” she demanded, straightening her spine to her full height. Once Derek obeyed - which, Casey thought with glee, proved that he was slightly tipsy - she raced into the kitchen, scavenging for the object she was looking for. After only a minute of searching (her mother and step-father were  _ so  _ predictable), Casey found two bottles of premium vodka: one unopened and the other about three-quarters full. Grabbing the opened bottle she made her way back to Derek’s chair where he waited, his eyes still closed. 

Holding the bottle up in front of his face, Casey felt victorious. “You can open your eyes now,” she said, ravishing the way Derek’s eyes widened when he saw the vodka. 

“Jesus  _ Christ  _ Casey, how-?” 

“Being the responsible one in this household has its pros,” she interrupted smugly. The bottles had been hidden behind the vegetable holder in the pantry since Casey and her family moved into the Venturi household. Casey suspected that George had long since forgotten about the booze he had stashed behind the potatoes. 

“And you gave  _ me  _ shit for stealing booze from the parentals?” Derek’s voice was incredulous. “Drunk Casey is  _ badass. _ ” 

She giggled and waved the bottle in his face. “I’ll trade you!’

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” he asked, pulling himself up from the recliner so that his eyes were level with her mouth. “What do you want, Casey?” 

Casey  _ should  _ have felt uncomfortable with Derek crowding her space - with him being the bane of her existence and all - but at this point, it was so familiar, so routine that she welcomed it. The last two hours had been filled with Casey trying new things, of going against what she was used to, and although she was pleasantly surprised at the outcome it was nice to engage in something that Keener Casey was experienced in. 

“I want to listen to my mom’s old Fleetwood Mac records,” she challenged. Before the McDonald-Venturi merger all of Nora’s old vinyls had belonged to Casey, despite the fact that she lacked a record player. After the move to London, much to Casey’s annoyance, Nora had proclaimed that it was much more practical to let Derek have them, as  _ he has a record player Casey, and I really want him to see me as somebody who cares about him, so please, don’t make a fuss. _

So Casey had begrudgingly let Derek take  _ her  _ records and refused to engage in his childish taunts when he would blast every record under the sun except for her beloved Fleetwood Mac. She knew - thanks to Lizzie - that Derek played them when she wasn’t home, which poured additional salt onto the wound. 

Stevie Nicks' records deserved to be played, to be cherished, enjoyed,  _ Goddamnit.  _

“Sure,” Derek shrugged, and Casey was surprised at how easily he conceded. “Don’t look so shocked,” he continued, “I do have a heart from time to time, you know.” 

“Could have fooled me.”

After procuring a carton of Orange Juice from the fridge -  _ you can’t just drink straight vodka Casey, Jesus. You’re pretty much gone already  _ \- and some plastic cups, they began to make their way up the stairs to Derek’s room with Casey leading the way. She faltered on the third step, hitting her left foot so hard that she fell back slightly. Thankfully Derek’s hockey reflexes prevailed as he caught her, his arms curled tightly around her waist while she let out a giggle. 

“Woah there, Klutzilla. You okay?” he asked, holding her in place while she recentered herself.

“Just grand,” she replied, taking another step. Much to her delight - which,  _ what?  _ Sober Casey is going to have a world of fun unpacking  _ that  _ \- Derek only removed his left arm from her waist. His right snaked around - never once leaving her skin - to the small of her back where her pyjama top had risen up. His palm lay flat and Casey leaned into the touch. Derek continued up the stairs, guiding Casey, and she had the fleeting desire for him to move his hand lower, to grab her ass from behind and spin her around and-

_ No, _ Casey thought desperately.  _ That’s just the beer talking, this is  _ Derek _! The laziest, most annoying and rudest person you’ve ever met. Not to mention, your step-brother? Get a grip, Casey.  _

Once inside Derek’s room Casey sat on the edge of his bed, feeling strangely awkward. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been in his room or sat on his bed before. In reality, it was quite the opposite. Casey had the sneaking suspicion that she was the McDonald-Venturi family member that was allowed in Derek’s room the most, beating Marti even. Not to mention the countless hours spent sitting on his bed - Casey with her legs crossed, while Derek sat leisurely on his desk - engaging in a familiar back and forth. 

But this was different and Casey couldn’t put her finger on the sole reason  _ why _ . It had become increasingly apparent over the last hour that they were in uncharted territory: allies instead of enemies, friendship in the place of animosity. It was what Casey had wished for since the merger of their two families and yet, now that she had it, she found herself not knowing what to do with their new dynamic. 

So she settled for what she knew. 

“Time's a running, Venturi,” she said, waving the vodka bottle in his direction. He rolled his eyes but moved towards his stack of records nonetheless. 

“That’s not even a real saying, Space Case.” 

“In my world it is.”

“Ah yes, forgive me, your majesty. I forgot we all live to serve and please yours truly, her royal highness, Queen Keener.” 

Casey refused to dignify his quip with a response, instead climbing up to the top of Derek’s bed, resting on the headboard. She placed the plastic Disney cups - which were both bright pink and chipped from years of Marti’s playful antics - on his bedside table and unscrewed the lid of the bottle, pouring in an amount that she  _ hoped  _ resembled a standard shot. 

As the opening chords of  _ Second Hand News  _ began to play Casey leaned her head back with a sigh. “I love this album.”

“I know,” came Derek’s reply. Casey turned her head to watch as he made his way over to the bed, flopping down on his stomach facing her. After seeing the shocked expression on her face he let out a bitter laugh. “It’s hard to tune you out  _ all  _ the time, Casey. Especially when you insist on singing the entire  _ Rumours  _ album whenever you’re in the bathroom.”

Casey felt the need to defend herself. “That’s where the acoustics are the best!” She handed him a cup, which he then raised it up in a mock toast. 

“On three?” Derek asked and she nodded. Then immediately, without hesitation, he drowned the shot back. He licked his lips and placed his empty cup on top of his pillow, causing Casey to stare at him in disbelief. 

“ _ Der-ek!I”  _

“Aww c’mon Space Case, you’re officially behind.” Derek’s eyes had a mischievous glint to them as Casey knocked her shot back, determined not to let herself be beaten by  _ him.  _ She found herself coughing profusely - which, given that this was her first time with straight spirits, was to be expected - and she spluttered, pushing Derek’s shoulder lightly. 

“That-that was disgusting! Why do people even  _ do  _ this for  _ fun _ ?” 

Derek’s reply was smug. “You’ll see.”

As soon as the words came out of Derek’s mouth the familiar beats of  _ Dreams  _ filled the room. Casey let out a soft sigh as she began humming, unaware that she had Derek’s undivided attention. Despite her mostly horizontal position she began to sway in time to the music, holding the bottle up as she started singing along with Stevie Nicks. 

_ “Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom. _ ” Casey’s voice was soft, a little off-key due to the liquor. “ _ Well, who am I to keep you down?”  _

Derek wordlessly held up his cup towards Casey, indicating he wanted another shot. She appreciated the fact he didn’t try to interrupt her moment - Stevie Nicks songs were just short of religion, honestly - so she indulged him, pouring herself another one as an afterthought. 

As the song came to a close -  _ when the rain washes you clean, you’ll know, you’ll know  _ \- Casey had begun to realise what Derek meant earlier about the appeal of drinking straight spirits. Her giddiness from earlier had returned in full force, and the pyjamas that usually protected her from the icy Ontario winter were making her sweat. She looked over at Derek, expecting him to have maintained his ‘cool guy’ status from earlier, but was faced with splotchy red cheeks and hazy eyes. 

He tugged on her pyjama sleeve in a feeble attempt to get her attention. “Casey,” he said in a fake whisper. Struggling to hear him over the noise, she almost rolled her eyes at his stupidity - they were the only ones  _ home. _

“What?”

“I think this is the longest we’ve gone without having a fight. Normally you would be sick of me by now.”

“Blame it on the alcohol,” she replied dryly, pouring him each a half glass of orange juice and adding some vodka. “Emily would be so proud of me right now - vodka and OJ is her drink of choice at parties.”

“You don’t really seem like the type to enjoy parties,” Derek mused as he took the tumblr from her. Casey pointedly did  _ not  _ pay attention to the point of contact between the two of them as their fingers brushed together, and she most  _ certainly  _ didn’t wish for it to happen again. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” 

“Oh, really? We share a wall Casey: I feel like I know you pretty well by now.”

Casey blushed at the implication. “Yeah? What’s my favourite book?” she asked definitely, choosing to ignore his lewd comment. 

“Too easy. Pride and Prejudice, though God knows why. It’s boring as shit.”

“Hey, Jane Austen novels are not  _ boring! _ And-and you’ve never even read the book!” She smiled triumphantly at him, proud to have gotten the words out. Without Casey even noticing her brain had become muddled; she found it hard to find the words she wanted and string them into a coherent sentence. 

“I’ve watched the movie,” came Derek’s reply, to which Casey booed. 

“Alright then, comfort food?” 

“Kraft Mac & Cheese. You always have a box stashed in your room somewhere, though it’s so well hidden that Lizzie doesn’t even know about it. You always eat it after watching The Breakfast Club, too, for some reason.”

Casey stared at him, unsure of how to answer.  _ He knew about the Mac & Cheese? _ She thought she had hidden it so well, and going by the lack of taunts that she had received from Derek and Edwin - who would be on her case about how if she wasn’t eating healthily, then they didn’t have to - Casey had believed that she was in the clear. 

Apparently not. 

“These questions are too easy, Case,” Derek said, finishing off his drink and stretching his arms above his head. She giggled a little at the nickname - he must have been on his way to being drunk if he was calling her Case with no sign of malice or sarcastic intent. She liked it and interrupted their little warped game of twenty questions to tell him so. 

“I like it when you say my name too,” Derek offered easily, and Casey marvelled at how willing he was to open up under the warm, hazy guise of liquor. 

“ _ Der-ek!” _ Casey supplied, her tone light and humorous. Derek laughed at the attempt to mock herself, a giddy and happy sound that seemed to have escaped from his belly. 

“Yeah, even like that.”

The opening riffs of  _ The Chain  _ started playing and Derek poked Casey’s thigh to get her attention. (Nevermind that he already did. Casey couldn’t help it - no matter where she was or who she was with, she was drawn to him, pulled by some unseen force that  _ demanded  _ that she gave him her undivided attention.) He began toying with her pyjamas, tracing the little designs of nail polish and lipstick that adorned it. 

“Cute,” he said absentmindedly, tugging on the elastic when he reached her waistline. Casey inhaled sharply, and Derek looked up at her. “I know that your favourite colour is pink and you love fashion, despite the fact that a part of you is mad for liking ‘stereotypical girly’ stuff. I know that your favourite necklace is that thick silver one with the heart pendant, but you don’t wear it anymore because Max said he liked you better in gold. I know that you’re not happy with your friendship with Emily, but you’re too scared to branch out and do anything about it. I know that you get hysterical and overbearing in relationships to avoid getting hurt. I know that despite the fact that Nora has literally  _ begged  _ you to be nice to me you haven’t, and your relationship with her has suffered a little because of it.” 

Derek stops to take a breath. Casey holds hers. 

_ And if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again.  _

“I know that you read steamy novels that you probably got from a book fair and that you-that you  _ do stuff  _ afterwards. I know that you like to sing Fleetwood Mac songs while studying. It comes through the vent, and  _ God  _ Casey, hearing you sing is one of the best parts of my day, I swear. I know that this back and forth we’ve got going challenges me, makes me better. You drive me up the fucking wall, Princess, and somehow it  _ works. _ So yeah, Casey, I know you. Probably better than you know yourself."

_ I can still hear you saying, you would never break the chain.  _

Derek settles back down onto the bed and Casey is stunned into silence. She knows, theoretically, that he’s only saying that because of the alcohol. That if this was sober Derek and Casey, they wouldn’t be sharing confessions like candy, that they wouldn’t even be  _ here  _ at all. But they’re not sober Derek and Casey, so she allows herself to give Derek another part of herself. 

“I go to your hockey games, sometimes,” she blurts out, enjoying the expression that crosses over Derek’s face. It’s part shocked, part pleased and part something else she can’t place her finger on. He bit his lip and smirked, and Casey was pleased. It’s his signature _Casey is annoying_ gesture and unfortunately, it’s _unbelievably_ hot. She would never admit that on any other occasion, ever, but tonight the vodka seemed to be inciting truths from both of them. “I have no idea what’s going on - though I’d like too. Not that I would ever admit that to George, or Edwin. You know, if you were nicer to me I’d let you teach me about hockey and give you the satisfaction of knowing that I _may_ be interested. But you’re mean, so tough luck!”

Derek looks up at her with an amused expression. “Why do you come to my hockey games, Casey?” 

“I like watching you play,” she admits, despite a large part of her screaming to  _ abort mission,  _ to run to her room and forget this night never happened.  _ A truth for a truth, _ Casey reasoned. “It’s nice to see you,” she fumbled on her words. “Play.” 

He let out a short, amused laugh. “Well thanks, I think?” he replied. Casey laid flat on Derek’s bed next to him, placing her hand’s palms down onto her belly. The sound of the record floated around them as they laid in comfortable silence. Both of them had admitted, in their own way, to something so substantial and life-changing. Their admissions were delicate; prompted only by the influence of alcohol and the unspoken mutual agreement that this night was just for the two of them. 

A one time only offer.

As the vinyl came to a finish Casey slowly rolled over and made her way to the record player, ignoring the lurch in her stomach. She carefully lifted the record up and put it away in its sleeve, stopping to admire it. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

Casey ignored Derek as his antagonistic voice filled the silence, instead choosing to flick through the stack of vinyls that sat behind his desk. Eventually, she found what she was looking for and placed it on the turntable, her body already beginning to move to the imaginary beat. Once the opening riffs to  _ Big Love  _ began to play she turned around to find Derek’s eyes on her. 

Casey suspected that they had never left. 

“I don’t understand why you act like a dick,” she stated bluntly. “It makes me fight back - which I really hate - and it makes it so much harder on the rest of our family.” 

“Dick? Wow, that’s  _ such  _ a big word for a Keener like you.” Casey folded her arms and glared at him in response. “You don’t hate fighting with me, Case. You  _ think  _ you do, but you need to be challenged. To have someone push back.”

Derek’s statement caused Casey to vibrate with anger. “I don’t ap - appri - I don’t like someone telling me what I do or don’t need!” Instead of making her way back to the bed - which had been her intention after playing the record - Casey remained where she was standing, placing a hand on Derek’s desk for support. Despite her agility as a dancer, she was still a klutz, and her balance had taken a hit due to the drinking. “And besides,” she added, a little haughtily, “I didn’t say I wanted to stop with whatever  _ this  _ is.” Casey accentuated her point by waving her pointer finger between her and Derek. “I just want our fights to be less,” she mimicked an explosion with her hands, ignoring the disapproving look Derek was giving her. “I want us to be friends, as well.” 

For someone who had practised the art of acting aloof to Casey’s antics, Derek’s reply came astonishingly fast. “We can never be friends.”

“Why not?”

“You know why,” he replied vaguely, and astonishingly Casey found that she  _ did.  _ She wasn’t stupid and neither was Derek. They knew what they were heading towards - what they had been building towards since their first meeting in the cafeteria, back when Casey believed him to be Ralph and Derek was hellbent on preventing change.

_ Big Love  _ morphed into  _ Seven Wonders  _ and Casey closed her eyes, imagining she was back in the privacy of her own room. As the music filled her up she began to dance; unchoreographed movements that would make her dance instructor cringe. But Casey relished in the artistic freedom and the chance to do what she loved most in the world without pressure, without judgement, without the constant anxiety that she needed to get every move exactly  _ perfect.  _

It was just her and the music. 

Eventually, the alcohol caught up with her excessive movements and she abruptly stopped, her head spinning as she willed her stomach to  _ be quiet and stand still, Goddamnit!  _

Casey caught Derek’s eye and he bit his bottom lip  _ again.  _ “Why do you do that?” 

“Do what?” he replied coyly, and Casey made her way back to the bed.

“That thing with your lip. You - you do it when you’re an-antag- annoying me. I want to know why you do it.” 

“I don’t realise I am doing it, half the time.”

“You need to stop it," Casey said abruptly. 

“Huh?”

“Yeah. You need to stop it. It drives me insane. It makes me look at your lips a lot.”

Derek groaned. “God Case, this was such a bad _fucking_ idea.”

“Well, you don’t need to tell me that!” Casey cried, jumping back onto the bed. She pushed him slightly with just enough force that he grabbed her arm to stop him from falling, but not enough for the shove to hurt. “This was your idea, you dick! I would never have gotten us in this sit-situ-situation,” she said, affronted by the fact that Derek was blaming  _ her _ for the whole mess. 

_ Can you hear me calling out your name? _

Now sitting upright, Derek tentatively reached out and placed a hand on her waist. Casey leaned into the touch instinctively, ignoring the warning bells that were flashing vividly in her mind.  _ Stop, no, don’t go there! You’re drunk and he’s your step-brother. You do not want this! _

The trouble was that she  _ did. _ Casey did want this. She wanted it so much that now that she and Derek had unleashed whatever weird, unspoken tension that had been twisting between them for years it was all that she could think about. Derek’s hands on her skin, his voice in his ear, his legs in between hers as she ground her ass down, desperate for friction and skin and- 

Derek’s eyes were large with disbelief as his fingers danced along her waistline. “God Case,” he whispered, “You’re like putty in my hands. So soft and warm.”

Casey held her breath, her body remaining as still as possible. She suspected that they were heading down a path that had the potential to shatter their family into shards, to obliterate any chance Casey and Derek had of maintaining a normal, well-balanced familial relationship based on mutual respect and admiration. They were heading down a path that Casey wasn’t a hundred percent sure that they fully knew what the consequences were. 

_ You know that I’m falling and I don’t know what to say. _

“We should probably go to sleep,” she said softly, placing her hand over Derek’s to still his movements. There was a beat before he took his hand in hers, intertwining their fingers and clasping their palms together. It was so affectionate and gentle that Casey had to take a minute to remind herself that  _ this is Derek: not Sam or Max or Noel. Affectionate and gentle are not words in Derek’s vocabulary.  _

But tonight was a night for honesty. Casey knew in her heart that despite all his faults Derek was a good person. She saw it with Edwin: how Derek - albeit in his own way - protected his younger brother with such voraciousness that impressed even Casey. It was present in his interactions with Marti when he’d scoop her up into his arms and whisper comforting words into her ear. Derek’s compassion was less visible outside of the McDonald-Venturi household, but still there nonetheless. Casey saw it on the ice: where he would check up on players while on the bench and willingly put himself in front of an incoming check to protect his teammates. 

Lying on Derek’s bed with liquor running through her bloodstream, Casey was finally ready to admit that she engaged with Derek’s antagonistic behaviour as a way to keep him at arm's length, without ever having to actually let him go. 

“I don’t want to,” Derek mumbled, slicing through Casey’s thoughts. He was answering a forgotten question: Casey had already reached up to switch off Derek’s lamp. They were enclasped into darkness: the only light coming from the faint glow of Casey’s room under the crack of Derek’s door. “You know, Case, I really didn’t think you had it in you to win this bet. But here we are.”

Casey had forgotten all about the  _ stupid  _ bet. “Yeah well, I’m full of surprises.”

A snort came from Derek. “No you’re not,” he said bluntly. “You’re predictable, but not in a way that’s boring.” 

“And Derek Venturi’s backhanded compliments strike again!”

Derek moved closer to Casey in response, sliding down the mattress so he could be level with her face. She looked up at the ceiling and shivered. The unsettling heat that the vodka bought had subsided and Casey let go of Derek’s hand to push her sleeves back down. Out of the goodness of her heart, she pretended she didn’t hear the soft sigh that escaped involuntarily from Derek (although she  _ totally  _ did), and instead maneuvered her way under his covers with a lot less grace than Casey had anticipated. Despite his protests of not wanting to sleep, Derek lethargically followed her. 

“I should have changed my sheets,” he mumbled, causing Casey to laugh. 

“What, you didn’t expect to have the company of a woman tonight?” she teased. 

“Of course not,” he replied diligently. “That would be against rule number one.” 

Casey laughed into his neck. "Well, you do tend to be the exception to most of my rules, anyway."

Derek’s hand found hers and he slid them together, resting on her abdomen, while his other hand snaked around her waist, bringing them closer. A gentle groan escaped from Casey before she could contain it and Derek hummed in approval. 

“This is nice,” she admitted. Her confession didn’t come as easily as it would have had earlier, which Casey took as a sign of her liquid courage fading away.

“Yeah,” Derek replied, pulling her even closer so that he was able to snuggle into her neck. “Really nice.” 

Within minutes they were both asleep, their bodies interwoven as they faced each other, touching each other wherever physically possible. If Casey had not of been sleeping she would have worried about how perfectly their bodies fit together, about how it was so easy for them to accommodate to each other’s needs regarding on how they liked to be held; on how indescribably  _ easy  _ to be held by Derek when it took Casey months of preparing herself to reach this milestone with Max. 

But it  _ was  _ and Casey  _ had  _ fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep; once again proving that Derek seemed to be the only person who could truly get the anxieties that plagued her brain to deafen. 

The final beats of  _ You and I, Pt II  _ teetered off into silence, leaving only the sound of Casey’s snores and Derek’s heavy breathing to fill up the room. 

  
  
  


**\+ one.**

“I know it was you,” Casey said, startling Derek. Closing the door behind her she walked forward into his room and stood in front of his desk. 

He swiveled around in his desk chair to face her. “What did I do  _ now _ ?” 

She waved two movie tickets in his direction and took pleasure in the blush that had made its way onto his cheeks. “I know it was you,” she repeated, “who bought the movie tickets. Mom thought it was me but it wasn’t.” 

Derek leant back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach. “You really think it was me, Spacey?  _ Me?  _ Why not Lizzie, or Dad even.”

Casey sent Derek a knowing look before making her way towards his bed. It was unmade, of course, so she sat gingerly on the corner. “I already asked Lizzie, she said it wasn’t her. And as much as I love George, he doesn’t know about how much I missed spending time with Mom,” she said. Casey flipped the used tickets in her hands, desperate for a way to channel her nervous energy. “Not like you do.” 

“Lizzie could have lied.” 

“McDonald’s aren’t liars.” 

There was a tense moment of silence before Derek raised his palms in surrender. “You got me, Princess. Was the movie good at least? Personally I thought it looked fucking  _ boring _ , but you McDonald’s are a special breed.” 

“Why?” Casey asked, not even bothering to answer his question.

Confusion clouded Derek’s face. “Why do I think Jane Austen movies are boring?” 

Normally the quip would have made Casey smile, or laugh, or huff in annoyance and shout  _ Der-ek _ . Instead she looked up at Derek and bit her bottom lip, her hands tapping the movie tickets rapidly. “Why did you buy the tickets for me and Mom?” 

Derek sighed softly and made his way to Casey, sitting beside her on the bed. “Do we really have to go over this again, Spacey? Everything I have to say has already been said.” 

“Since when do you rely on words, anyway?” Casey said, so quickly that she barely even registered the words coming out of her mouth. “I thought you talked through your actions.” 

Derek scoffed. “I already  _ did _ ,” he said, motioning towards the tickets in her hand. “Ball’s in your court, Case.” 

“I’m tired of playing.” 

“Casey McDonald, giving up? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s easy when there’s no chance of winning,” Casey said.

“How do you know you can’t win?” Derek’s voice is unusually soft, causing Casey to look up at him and meet his eyes. 

Casey doesn’t respond, instead placing the movie tickets in his hand. “Thank you for the tickets, Derek. I appreciate it.” 

She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, tapping at his jaw with her pointer finger. “You win,” she whispered softly before making her way towards the door.   
  


“Casey, wait,” Derek said, his voice hoarse. “I-I don’t want to win.”

A small smile is elicited from Casey at his words. “Sure you do, Venturi.”

Derek moved quickly to stand beside Casey at the door, extending his hand to block her from turning the handle. Instead of responding to her he leaned forward and placed his hands on her hips, drawing her close. “Maybe I have to lose," he said, resting his forehead on hers, “to win the real prize.” 

Casey could feel herself melting under his touch but she composed herself enough to respond. “As far as romantic confessions go, that was pretty lackluster.” 

Derek smirked. “Well we can’t all come up with the ‘if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more’ bullshit, now can we?”

“I  _ knew _ that you googled the movie,” Casey said triumphantly, shifting so that her back was against the door. Derek followed her, his hands never once leaving her waist. “There’s no way you would know Jane Austen otherwise.” 

Instead of answering Derek leant down and placed a soft kiss on her neck, causing Casey to gasp involuntarily. 

“Spacey Casey, detective extraordinaire," he said, tracing the spot where his lips had been just seconds earlier. 

“Yep, that’s me,” Casey said breathlessly, clutching at Derek’s biceps. The action caused Derek to return to Casey’s neck, biting and sucking at the smooth skin.

After what feels like  _ hours  _ Derek's lips finally make their way to hers. He hesitated for a second, giving Casey a way out if she wanted to take it.

Casey remained still underneath his grip, staring up at him, eyes  _ wanting _ . 

Almost instantly after Derek bridged the gap between them Casey responded enthusiastically, kissing him back fiercely as she ran her hands up his chest. 

Casey isn’t aware of how long they have stood there, wrapped up in the excitement of exploring the shift in their dynamic, before she pulled away.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked. 

“Yeah,” she responded, nodding her head. “I just- I want to be sure we’re on the same page.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Great, more talking. Like I said earlier, everything I need to say has already been said. I’m pretty obsessed with you and want to kiss your neck and hold your hand, etc etc. Can’t we just go back to making out?”

Casey laughed and grabbed Derek’s hand, tugging him towards his bed. She pushed him slightly onto the mattress and kicked off her shoes, giggling under her breath as he bounced on the springs. “I think we can arrange that,” Casey said, following Derek onto the bed. 

Derek sighed in content as he slid his hands around Casey’s hips and downwards to grab at her ass. “Lucky me.” 

* * *

Later, the unmistakable voice of a scorned Stevie Nicks can be heard throughout the Venturi-McDonald residence. 

“Is Casey playing Derek’s Fleetwood Mac records?” Edwin asked. 

“Yeah,” Lizzie responded, frowning as she looked up from her English homework.

Edwin took a bite out of his sandwich and offered Lizzie some, to which she glared. 

“Weird.” 

“Very.” 

**Author's Note:**

> the movie that casey and nora go see is emma (2020)  
> i hope you all have a safe and happy new year! here’s to 2021 being better than the shitthole that was 2020 xx 
> 
> [tumblr](https://eyescllsed.tumblr.com/)


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